


a burden borne of all and one

by thatsparrow



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Missing Scene, The Adventure Zone: Amnesty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-14
Updated: 2019-08-14
Packaged: 2020-08-23 06:09:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,420
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20238019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatsparrow/pseuds/thatsparrow
Summary: He takes a deep breath, works on loosening the rigor mortis grip he's got on the brim of the hat. "Something's changed, Mama.I'vechanged. I'm not—special, anymore."—Or, Duck tells Mama about going from Chosen to Mundane





	a burden borne of all and one

**Author's Note:**

> in honor of the finale approaching, decided to revisit an old wip
> 
> title from "don't carry it all" by the decemberists

“So I, uh—I’ve got some news.”

Mama glances up at Duck and waves him into her office, tilting her head towards the chair in front of the desk with her duster slung across the back of it. He's got his Ranger hat pinched between his fingers and sweat beading along the creases of his palms, somewhere near the same level of nerves he'd had before asking Lucy Farrow to their Junior Prom. Which—fuck, he'd rather go through that a dozen times over than do this, would rather be stripped down to his boxers and asking her out in front of the whole damn _ school _than having this particular chat with Mama. Unfortunately, that option doesn't seem to be on the table.

"You alright, Duck?" Mama asks, looking up at him from behind Thacker's laptop, eyebrows pulling together somewhat. "You're lookin' a little funny—like, just finished your tenth go on the Kepler Twister sort-of funny. Are you about to be sick? Please don't be sick on my carpet."

He shakes his head as he lowers himself into the chair. Though actually, his stomach is feeling a little queasy, so maybe Mama's not far off. It'd certainly be one way out of the conversation.

"Nah, that ain't it." She nods, but that crease between her brow doesn't ease up, muscles all tensed like any moment she's gonna need to get a trash can in front of him. "Actually, I might be better off than I've been in some time? Or, maybe much worse—is another way to think of it. I—shit, I'm not makin' any sense, am I?"

"If you are, it's the sort of sense that I ain't drunk enough to follow. Hell's going on with you, Duck?"

He takes a deep breath, works on loosening the rigor mortis grip he's got on the brim of the hat. "Something's changed, Mama. _ I've _ changed. I'm not—special, anymore."

Mama frowns. "What's that mean, exactly?"

"There was somethin' going on in my brain, before—a tiny wormhole, was how I had it described. And when it was around, I'd get those visions of the future, and I could take a hell of a beating without gettin' anything to show for it, and I could manage to put up a half-decent fight when push came to shove, even though no one'd ever shown me how to throw a punch. But it's gone, now. Closed, I guess. And all those perks that came with it are gone, too. What I mean is that I'm just a guy, now, Mama. Not, 'Duck the Chosen One', or anythin'. Just—_Duck_."

She pushes back from the desk, shaking her head as she stands up. "Nah, that's not how this shit works. I've been around the fuckin' block, Duck Newton, and you don't just _ lose _ something like that. Look, maybe you're just comin' down with something? Havin' an off day don't mean you've suddenly turned into Average Joe."

Duck laughs, no humor in it. "It ain't like I woke up with the fuckin' flu and now I can't play in the big game or whatever. My mojo is gone—like, _ gone _gone. You might as well think of me as Average Joe's less impressive cousin—Steve, or Bill, or some shit." 

Mama looks frustrated, but not at him, at least; more like she's frustrated with the world, which he understands. "And you can't—I don't know, get it back or something?"

"What, the _ wormhole in my brain_? No, Mama, I can't get it back."

She sighs, pinches the bridge of her nose like she's trying to keep the unease bottled up behind it. "No. Sorry, Duck, I just—" she sits back down, heavy. "We're in the thick of it now, you know? Worse'n it's ever been in all the years I've helmed the Pine Guard. End-of-the-world type shit. Finding you and Ned and Aubrey was somethin' of a blessing, and I guess I took it for granted, a little. Like, here you show up with a magic fuckin' sword, and I don't have it in me to believe that luck could turn sour. But now you're tellin' me it has, and that's—well, that's a real fucking bummer, and I just need a moment to process it."

"I do still have the sword, in point of fact."

Mama smiles a little. "That's something, then." She opens up one of the bottom desk drawers and pulls out a half-empty bottle of grocery store scotch and a stack of wax-coated, water cooler cups. She pours two of them full and passes one across the desk, putting Duck right back in high school when they'd used to do the same with plastic handles of cheap, eye-watering vodka. The cup wrinkles a little in his hand as he downs the shot. Mama follows suit.

"How are you feelin' about all of it?"

He lets out another laugh, or maybe it's more of an exhale. "Not great. Real shitty actually, if we're bein' honest."

"You know, this don't have to change anything. You're still a member of the Pine Guard whether you've got magic fuckin' visions or a wormhole in your brain or whatever else. It ain't like all of us are magic. I'm not, and Ned's not, and Thacker wasn't. Doesn't mean we couldn't kick some abomination ass when the situation called for it."

"Yeah, but—" he breaks off, reaching for the bottle again.

"Yeah?"

But it's different—knowing exactly what you've lost, and there's no way to explain it without looking like ten kinds of an asshole. That he used to wake up feeling _ good_, feeling strong even if the closest he'd ever come to a workout was shifting forestry supplies in and out of the Ranger vans. That, for as much as he'd run from it or shoved it to the back of the proverbial closet, he'd still held onto his Chosen nature as a point of pride—more so, after meeting Ned and Aubrey and doing something worthwhile with it. Like, no, maybe he hadn't wanted the bullshit talking sword or the glowing, six-foot-tall fairy godmother, but he had liked knowing that the universe had picked _ him_, that he was something special underneath it all. And now he's just supposed to—what? Forget? Move on? Stretch the aches out of his forty-year-old bones and try to be half the man he was before? He doesn't know who he is without Minerva's strength in his hands; he's not sure he wants to find out. 

But he has to, doesn't he? Like he said to Mama, he can't get it back.

She's still waiting on an answer, but he doesn't have one to give her. Eventually she sighs and pulls herself to her feet again.

"Look, I appreciate you tellin' me, Duck. Truly. And if you need a place to breathe, or a place to chat, or a place to drink while you're sortin' this shit out, my door is always open." She looks at him then, a different sort of weight to it. "But understand this—whatever it takes to pull yourself together, you've gotta figure it out and you've gotta figure it out fuckin' _ fast_. Because it is sure as sunrise that we're gonna have another abomination comin' through the gate soon, and when it does, I need you ready for it—magic wormhole in your brain or no. Get me? We can't afford to have you on the bench for this one, Duck. Maybe you're just a man, now—Average Steve, or whatever the fuck it is you want to call yourself—but you're a man with a sword, and a good head on his shoulders, and no small amount of courage, and none of that is insignificant. You say you're not special anymore, but as far as I'm concerned, you're still special where it counts."

"Thank you, Mama." Not that he's exactly good, yet, but maybe her blunt-edged approach to sympathy is what can get him there; after all, it's not like the world will slow down for the sake of his self pity. He follows her lead then, rising from his chair and pushing it back towards the desk. "I appreciate you taking the time to talk to me."

"Wasn't kiddin' when I said that finding you and Ned and Aubrey was a blessing, Duck." She walks him back to the office door, one hand on his shoulder, more steady and reassuring than he expected. "With or without your powers, that's still true."


End file.
